


Fly or Fall

by BlueQuills



Category: DreamSMP, Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Bittersweet, Blood and Injury, Crossover, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Phoenixes, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueQuills/pseuds/BlueQuills
Summary: Phil, Techno, Wilbur and Tommy. Four brothers, a secret bloodline of fire and flight (thought to be extinct) running through their royal veins.Dream, Sapnap and George. Assassins (without a choice) , best of the best.Grian, with his own agenda to abide by, seeking revenge (against the one who ruined his life) , the rest of the hermits by his side.But playing the hero had always had its risks, whether you wanted to or not. And sometimes, you don't get a choice.So how high can you fly before you'll fall?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 140
Kudos: 131





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Starting from Chapter 3, this work was beta read by [Jello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jello12451), who is super pog. Thank you to them for agreeing to do that, and please go check out their fics if you haven't already.
> 
> With that, enjoy.

The Screech owl shifted in the darkness, then tented its wings against the pouring rain. 

Lighting flashed somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbling across the sky in what the owl decided was clearly a _CRASHBANGBOOPDNRUFR_. It seemed as if the heavens have split open, dumping an endless torrent of rain down on the mortal realm, the sky so dark it might as well have been solid stone.

The moon was hidden behind a thick veil of clouds, as were the stars, and the entire sky was emptily dark, like a giant dome that cast everything into shadow.

The owl clicked its beak, shaking its head and sending a spray of water in all directions. It was perched precariously on the drooping branches of a tall birch tree with streams of water cascading down the leaves. Blinking, amber eyes shining like lamplights in the darkness, it leaned forwards.

In one, smooth movement, it unfurled its wings and takes flight, feathers carving a smooth path through the gloom. The owl turned its head, observing every little bit of movement. 

The wind tearing through the late-autumn leaves. The sheets of rain pelting from the clouds, and the bolts of lightning that tear through the sky, glaringly bright in the shadow of night.

It tilted its wings towards a smudge of light, and pulls closer. Shivering and drenched to the bone, it can make out the blurry shapes of a town, houses shining in the rain, the firelight from the streetlamps glistening off every surface. Warm candlelight shimmered in the windows of the houses, telling tales of toasty fires and warm meals.

The owl swooped lower, landing on an old barrel under the shelter of a roof, and blinked slowly, water streaming off its feathers. It was cold, and settling down, it flicked out its wings, watching the rain stream down its feathers, dripping onto the top of the barrel.

A commotion sounds, and it raises its head again, peering through the darkness warily.

A man comes into view, crouched, wearing dark clothes that are plastered to his body in the downpour. He walks briskly, but pauses as he emerges from his alleyway, his eyes wary. The owl clicked its beak, eyes instantly drawn to the gleam of a metal sword in his hand, and it subconsciously takes a step back, tasting both the fear and danger that radiated from him, feathers ruffled nervously.

The man glanced around, then walks forward, when another figure leaps out from the pools of shadow, emerging from darkness. Both of their wings are hidden, likely to protect their feathers from the rain.

The newcomer wears a heavy read cloak that hung from his shoulders, drenched in the rain, and the owl can see the sharp glimmer of a blade shining in his hand. Neither make a sound as they lower themselves into a fighting stance, eyes shining with the sort of wild light like the hungry wolves that prowled the city’s edge.

The first man lashed out with his dagger, so quickly that even the motion sensitive eyes of the owl could barely keep up, but the newcomer leaped out of the way gracefully, the rain lashing out in sheets between them as they dance, the most dangerous dance of death. 

The owl shifted uneasily as it watched the fight. Watched as the first man landed a strike on the second – a deep cut on his shoulder, but they continued. They were fighting to the death.

They cross their blades for a moment, the metal flaring with liquid copper light as it catches the shine of the streetlamps, and then the first man drew away, leaping backwards in a defensive stance. The world fades into darkness again, and the cloaked man lunges out with his blade, catching even his opponent in surprise at the speed of his strike. One moment he had been standing with his sword held high, the next he was a streak of red, blade aiming at his rival. 

Leaping forwards, he thrust his blade through the first man’s chest, his face unreadable, rain washing his sword clean as it poured unyieldingly down from the sky.

The first man didn’t make a sound, never cried out even as his blood splattered the ground, melting into the rain, seeping into the muddy puddle that he collapsed into.

The cloaked man swallowed and stood a little straighter, his expressions unreadable. His glanced briefly at the body, then back at the alleyways behind him, and this time, the owl could see, clear as day, the stark fear that shone in his stormy grey gaze. Warily, he raised a hand, pressing it against the still-bleeding wound on his shoulder, a grimace flickering across his face.

The owl flicked back its wings, tilting its head curiously as it watched. The man backed away slowly, his face tight with pain, and retreated back into the darkness, slipping easily into the inky black as easily as a fish into water. And then he was gone, and the owl turned to the side, preening it’s wings carefully.

Little did it know, the lives of countless people had been changed forever, thrown into a turmoiled storm from which no clear victor would emerge – nothing would be the same again.

But whether it would waver to the good or bad, only time would tell.


	2. For You, The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno didn’t expect to have to give up so much. But he didn’t really have a choice, did he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of lore in this chapter, the plot is moving pretty quickly in this fic.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Techno grimaced, gritting his teeth as he continued through the streets. 

The morning was hazy grey, damp, and generally miserable. Pools of muddy rainwater gleamed against the rough cobbled paths, and the soft flame of the streetlamps still hadn’t been extinguished, flickering dimly in the brightness of day. Fallen leaves in varying shades of coppery orange and golden yellow littered the ground, their once beautiful colours coated with grime, ground into the dirt from heavy footsteps.

He shivered, pulling his cloak in tighter, but it was still soaking wet from the storm last night and did little to stop the cold wind that seemed to pull warmth out of him. It did, however, press against his wounded shoulder, and he gave a hiss of pain, twisting to glance at the bandages he had hastily wrapped around it. He cursed softly as he saw how tattered his cloak was – the assassin last night had certainly cut away at the edges and chunks of fabric hung, tattered, like broken wings.

The cut had stopped bleeding, which was good, but still sent bold flares of pain through his arm whenever he touched it. He narrowed his eyes and continued onwards.

He could live with a little bit of pain.

His mind flickered back to the night before, exhaustion tugging at his thoughts. He remembered it with startling clarity – how it had all started, and the moment his life had been turned upside down.

The fresh smell in the air before rain, the heavy clouds that rolled through the sky, blotting out the sun. He was going to the market, a small pouch of coins jingling at his side.

He had been walking through the streets, each breath making a shimmering stream of mist in front of him, the new chill of the coming winter biting him with every step. He would have been cold, but with his wings tightly folded against his back, he was warm. He had always found it odd how his wings did that, but he had asked Phil once when his feathers were first starting to grow in, and his brother had turned to him, face grave. 

Their father was a busy man, far too occupied with running the Kingdom to bother with his sons, and as the eldest son, it had been Phil that had raised the rest of them. So naturally, it had been Phil that Techno had confided in, about his mysterious amber and copper streaked wings that shimmered with more colours of gold than he could name, and about how it pulsed softly with heat whenever it started to get cold.

He remembered Phil’s reply too, that would be forever engraved in his memory, along with the series of events afterwards. 

“Do not show your wings to anyone.” Techno tilted his head at that, and Phil had continued.

“Phoenixes are rare, but feared.” His brother had bent down to stare at him, blue eyes glimmering with concern. “They will hurt you. They might hurt us. Be careful, and don’t let your guard down.”

He had been so young, so naïve, and so hopelessly clueless in the world, yet even then he understood the gravity of Phil’s words. There were thousands of questions he had wanted to ask, but Phil had shushed him softly and led him to a dusty wooden chest in some corner of the castle, where he had fished out a long, red cloak and draped it gently over Techno’s shoulders. It had been far too long back then, and dragged all over the shining polished floors, much to their amusement.

“Constant vigilance.” Phil would remind him, forever worried. Techno would agree, and even to this day he had never been caught, but he didn’t understand why. 

Techno didn’t understand Phoenixes. 

He had read all the old books he could dig up about them in the library, hundreds of hours spent alone at night, with the dancing, flickering light of a candle to keep him company as he scoured page after page. He had found lots of interesting things there – Phoenix wings, and by extension, Phoenix powers were passed down through bloodlines – and that supposedly, there once was Phoenix blood in the royal family, although that line had died out. He knew that wasn’t true though, he was proof.

But nothing ever told him what powers Phoenixes had, nothing had ever told him _why_ Phoenixes and other odd wings were so hated. He learned not to question it, and move on.

But then, yesterday, _something_ had happened.

He didn’t quite know what, but as he was almost at the market, he felt something inside him. An odd urge to fly, as if someone had tied an invisible string around his heart and was yanking it forcefully towards the sky, and then there was an almost painful tingling in his fingers. He could have sworn he saw a single spark flicker into existence for a heartbeat, but it was gone in an instant, leaving him wondering whether it had even been real.

And then the vision had come.

A flash of red, and the ice-cold glimmer of a blade. A wave of blood that engulfed him – he couldn’t breathe, the stench of iron clogging up his mouth and nose, his world suddenly just a violent expanse of crimson. A scream tore through the air, echoing around him hauntingly, before being abruptly cut short, and Techno had shaken his head, trying to do something, because that scream was _familiar_. 

And then the blood receded, and he stood, panting, staring at a single figure standing smugly in the distance. A nameless assassin, blade shining spotlessly as he stalked through an alleyway, face shadowed against the sun that slipped slowly down to the horizon.

It all faded away, and he had blinked, finding himself standing in the middle of the road, right where he had been before that alarming vision. No one around him gave any hint that he had been acting oddly, so he kept going, his heart pounding, the taste of blood still lingering in his throat. 

It scared him, but he recognized the alleyway in the vision – he would go there first. After all, he recognized the scream. 

It had been Phil.

There hadn’t been enough time to warn anyone – if the vision was real, he had until sunset which was only a few minutes away.

He had been successful, of course. The assassin had led him on a chase throughout much of the night, but he had won, everything should have gone back to normal.

Except it hadn’t.

He almost wanted to complain at how grievously unfair life was – had he not been acting with noble intentions and a good heart? Did he not deserve to be able to see his family again after what he had just done for them?

Life apparently didn’t think so, he mused, as he stared down at the pendent in his hands – an obsidian feather, glinting harshly, taken from the assassin he had killed, raindrops gleaming like pearls as they slid down its flinty surface.

The mark of the Circle of Vultures.

They were perhaps the single largest, and most feared crime circle that existed, spanning all cities in a hidden chain linking the black markets and dark webs in one brutal, ruthless organization. They took bounties, and ran secret system of selling rare wing species, as if they were animals.

All their assassins were taken as children, snatched off the streets or stolen from orphanages, then trained so thoroughly that by the time they were ready to work, they didn’t know the difference between mercy and death.

They had eyes everywhere, and they never forgot a grudge.

So if they knew that it was Techno who had killed one of their members, his family would never be safe anywhere again.

He had to hide. To run, to leave everything he had known behind.

His heart twisted as he thought about Tommy’s radiant smile and Wilbur’s bright voice and Phil’s gentle gaze. He wanted to be with them, to laugh and cry together, as one. 

_Even die together?_ He ignored that thought, unwilling to answer.

He forced himself onwards, cold numbness settling over his anguish. If he truly loved them, he would stay away, as far away as possible. He had to keep them safe, allow them the comfort of family that he knew he would never feel again.

There was no going back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. There was a ton of stuff in that chapter, and a lot of things that will actually affect later chapters – both obvious ones and not ;)
> 
> Also, last chapter kylekat requested some apples, pastry flour, cooking oil, butter, chicken eggs, and sugar, so uh *chucks an apple tree at y’all along with all the other ingredients*
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and until next time,  
> ~ BlueQuills


	3. Leap Into The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy grieves for the loss of a brother. Which one, only time will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present to you 2175 words of mourning and thinking and basically angst with like no action. It’s kinda important though, and introduces two more characters.
> 
> Enjoy.

Tommy stared out the window blearily, the too-bright sunshine beaming radiantly down from the heavens, his heart heavy. The world seemed almost unfairly cheerful – why was the sun still so warm, the birds still singing, the leaves on the trees still such beautiful tones of autumn? 

His eyes flicked nervously to his door, and he tilted his head, ears pricked. A heartbeat passed, and he heard nothing.

He swallowed, sighing, and got to his feet, throwing open his window. Crisp, cold air flooded into this room, sharpening his senses for a moment, bringing with it the fresh smell of fall. His wings shifted behind him for a moment, and he longed to spread them and fly, high into the unknown blue, somewhere empty and alone and he didn’t feel trapped.

That fateful night he hadn’t lost one brother, when Techno had failed to come home.

No. 

He had lost two. He didn’t know Phil anymore. 

Where was that gentle, happy brother that used to scold Tommy for poking at Wilbur’s instruments? Where were those kind, loving eyes that would beam warmly down at him, edges crinkled with laugher?

He shuddered as he recalled the cold, distant look that had flashed across Phil’s face when Techno had failed to come home. Tommy had never seen Phil quite so angry before, the trembling fury that radiated off of him tingling in the air, making his feathers fluff up subconsciously.

He loved Phil, and he knew Phil loved them too, but the raw ferocity that shone in his brother’s eyes scared him more than he would like to admit.

Perhaps it because Phil loved them so much, that it nearly broke him.

Tommy knew that Phil had never wanted to be King – it was a dangerous but simultaneously boring, grueling job that would last one a lifetime – usually a short one, at that. Tommy had seen the almost longing glances Phil would cast silently at the street children who ran barefoot through the city, laughing boisterously as they scavenged for food, faces streaked with grime. 

That was a hard way to live, a lifetime of icy coldness and aching emptiness, but those children looked like _children_ , full of life, unlike the dull gaze of Phil - far too young for the weight of the city that had been dumped onto his shoulders and responsibility of raising three younger siblings, too lively to be confined to the throne, invisible shackles weighting him down every step he took.

Phil did it all for them. The four of them had only each other in the world, four bright spots of light in an endless shadowed sky. To give them somewhere safe to stay, somewhere clean to eat, somewhere warm to sleep, Phil had taken up an impossible burden, and it was breaking him.

Tommy sighed, throwing open his window, watching it swing open, the golden light outside casting long striped shadows into his room. _Like the bars of a prison._

He glanced downwards at the courtyard, the soft moss on the cobblestone, the fruit trees lining the northern side, a small pond on the eastern edge. The scent of ripe apples is carried through the air with the wind, and Tommy inhales, his mind flicking back to a memory of Techno, on a wonderful autumn day just like this one.

Tommy had been tasked with picking a few apples – Phil had seen him bouncing around with barely contained energy and given him a task to do outside. The thought of how close they had been just a year ago stabbed painfully into his chest, but he closed his eyes, focusing on the memory.

He had just walked out of the door, when he noticed Techno in the courtyard and he dove into the rosebushes to his left, thankful for Phil’s choice to plant thornless roses.

Techno was training, he seemed to dance silently around the courtyard, his diamond blade flashing in the hazy sunlight. A tiny smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth, his expression relaxed. His eyes were closed – no doubt a crazy challenge he had come up with for himself, but he didn’t stumble, a testament to his familiarity of his surroundings. Eyes closed, which meant that he couldn’t see Tommy as the younger boy crouched behind the flower bushes, face alight with excitement.

But most importantly, Techno had taken his cloak off, 

That was the first time, in, at that time, fifteen years of living, that Tommy had seen Techno’s wings.

Beautiful golden wings that shimmered like fire in the sun, each feather enveloped in a warm copper glow beaming radiantly as he flicked them open and closed, their agile flares complimenting his strikes. Tommy held his breathe, eyes wide as he watched his brother, admiration blooming inside his chest – a warm, soothing feeling that curled gently around his heart. 

Techno had noticed him a few moments later, of course, and made him promise not to tell anyone, which he did gladly.

He glanced out his window, half-expecting to see Techno in the courtyard at that moment, but the air was still, the sweet smell of ripe apples drifting lazily from the orchid to his room.

Techno was gone.

He swallowed, glancing dully at the crystal clear sky. There had been no warning – Techno had gone out one day, and never came back. They hadn’t found a body, but why else wouldn’t Techno have come home?

He would have to accept that Techno wasn’t going to come home. Not now, not ever.

He wanted to talk about it. 

Once, he would have gone to Phil, spilled his tears into the warm embrace of his eldest brother, but Phil hadn’t been acting like himself ever since Techno had vanished. The stress of maintaining a calm, collected front to the rest of the Kingdom, while frantically following worthless leads for a hopeless case in all his free time was taking it’s toll on perhaps one of the most stable constants in Tommy’s life, and he could _see_ Phil starting to shatter, his protectiveness now had a heated, fierce edge to it. Every interaction with him felt like a minefield.

Perhaps only a week ago, if Phil was busy, he would have gone to Wilbur. The second-youngest brother in the family would play some music while Tommy talked, and although Wilbur’s gentle gaze was rarely on Tommy’s face, Tommy knew that we was listening, accepting every word he said, and letting his own thoughts flow through the notes he strummed lightly.

That wasn’t an option now – Phil had assigned guards at their doors which strict orders that they were only to leave in case of emergencies. Tommy hated it, hated how he felt like a prisoner in his own room, hated how he felt like he was being watched despite knowing the guards were standing outside his door.

He glanced at his window, energy coursing through him, and suddenly, it was even harder to stay put, the grief in his chest longing for any source of comfort he could find. Silently, he leaned over the window, and perched onto the windowsill, wings filling the frame as he spread them slightly, feeling the wind course through them.

He was suddenly very glad that his window wasn’t blocked with thick iron bars like the ones of the prisons, but if Phil found out what he was going to do, it wasn’t impossible that they might be added.

He pushed that concern aside, and jumped, wings unfurling midair to catch the wind, and he fell into a smooth glide, swooping over the courtyards. His brown and white flecked Tawny Owl wings spread to their full size for the first time in days, and he stretched them luxuriously, feeling his feathers cut through the air, the taste of freedom sharp in his mouth.

He had a destination in mind, and he flapped his wings, putting on a burst of speed towards the heart of the city. He could see everything, the sun shining like a ball of fire in the sky, the dappled wings of the city’s citizens as they hurried through the streets, the people who flew skimming over rooftops, dashing past him in blurs of colour.

At last, he landed in front of a small shop. It was tucked neatly into the side of the street, bright glass windows displaying trays worth of small cakes and sweet, sugar-dusted cookies, lined carefully over lace-edged paper. The faded wooden sign above the door read “Niki’s Bakery”, and it swung gently as Tommy opened the door, slipping inside.

The interior was brightly lit, lanterns shining from the ceiling, flickering softly. As the bell on the door jingled, a lady emerged from the back kitchen, an automatic smile already painted across her pretty features as she made her way behind the counter.

“Hello Tommy!” She beamed radiantly, her Dove wings tented gracefully behind her.

“Hi Niki.” He managed a slight smile, but dropped it again as grief tightened his throat.

She tilted her head perceptively, then walked past him to the door, flipping her “Open” sign closed. She turned back to him, beckoning for him to sit down. “You look like you want to talk.”

“Yeah.” Tommy admitted, fiddling with his shirt, thankfulness for her blooming inside him. “Is Tubbo here?”

At the mention of his name, a boy the same age as Tommy peeked out from behind the kitchen, blue eyes sparkling. “Tommy?”

Tommy nodded, and Tubbo ran forwards, embracing him in a hug, red Summer-Tanager wings flicking open and closed in excitement. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Niki ruffled Tubbo’s hair affectionately. Tubbo had originally been just another kid on the streets, but he was always soft-spoken and quiet, far too gentle to even stand up for himself, which the other children knew. 

Niki was from a far away land that she claimed was full of Doves like herself, but she had been swept into a storm one fateful day and carried out to sea, then eventually deposited on the shores of Phil’s Kingdom. As a result, the townsfolk tended to avoid her despite her almost angelic personality. Upon opening her bakery, Niki had taken Tubbo in under her wing, and then Tommy had met him, and the two instantly became inseparable.

Tommy gave Tubbo a tiny smile. “It’s only been a week.”

“But it feels like a lifetime!” Tubbo grumbled. “What was keeping you?”

Tommy swallowed, suddenly unable to talk. “I-”

Niki set a plate of chocolate cookies in front of him – his favourite kind, as well as a steaming mug of creamy hot chocolate, but he didn’t have an appetite. 

“Techno’s gone.” He managed to blurt out, holding back tears. He would _not_ cry, no, he refused. 

A heartbeat of silence. Tubbo met his gaze, shock shining brightly in his blue eyes. “Gone? Like-”

“Gone.” Tommy confirmed miserably, staring at a non-existent point of interest on the wooden table.

“I’m so sorry.” Niki whispered, gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into her touch, a single tear breaking free of his control and sliding down his cheek.

He hadn’t ever had time to really cry over the loss of Techno, he realized. Because the first few days, when the grief had been sharp and painful and so fresh that it bubbled in his mind constantly, they had clung onto the thin thread of hope that Techno might come back. And when even his ever-hopeful mind had accepted that Techno was truly gone, he had already gone numb, nothing prompting his un-cried tears to fall. But now, finally, he could cry.

Niki swept her wings around them, her gaze heavy, eyes shining with tears. “How?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“He just vanished. It’s been a week now.” 

Niki sighed, glancing at the ground. “He used to help Tubbo and I, did he ever tell you that?”

Tommy lifted his head, surprised. “No, he did?”

Niki’s mouth curved into a slight smile at the memory. “He would win a ton of stuff from all the sword fighting competitions he used to do, and sometimes, when business was especially terrible, he would insist I take some.”

Tommy blinked, the world blurring in front of him as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “He never told me about that.” 

It sounded like a very Techno thing to do though, so he didn’t doubt it. Hidden under that tough shell was a warm interior, although Techno would always scowl when Tommy called him soft. The memory made him feel hollow inside.

Niki gazed out the window, her blue eyes unfocused. “He didn’t want to embarrass Tubbo and I.” She said finally. “He was always so selfless like that. He’s so kind, but he doesn’t let anyone know.” Her wings folded across her back, a single tear slipping from her cheek.

Tubbo reached out, hugging Tommy even tighter than before, and he accepted it, Tubbo’s wings enveloping him in soft red feathers, and he closed his eyes.

“He’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little does Tommy know, he might be mourning for the wrong brother.
> 
> *dramatic music*
> 
> Anyhow, on that cheerful note, here is 1 pound of cheddar cheese, 1 bag of elbow noodles, 1 box of panko bread crumbs, 1 carton of milk, 1 pint of cream and a-
> 
> *trips and falls, pepper flakes spill everywhere*
> 
> Okay a bit more than a pinch, but welp.
> 
> *chucks a cinnamon role into the mix* 
> 
> Here y’all go. Hope you enjoyed and until we meet again,
> 
> ~ BlueQuills


	4. Youthful Innocence Fallen Like Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new task in the Circle of Vultures has been assigned.
> 
> A certain group of assassins set out, purpose drilled into their wings.
> 
> To fail would mean a fate worse than death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to Jello12451 for agreeing to beta read for me - if you guys haven’t seen their fics yet, please go check them out. They are absolutely stunning, I’m still a little shocked that they agreed :D
> 
> With that, let’s get into it!
> 
> (Jello here- Blue, b o n k, your fics are amazing and I’m really happy you let me beta-read. Subscribe to Blue, and her YT, and bookmark and leave kudos and comment if you haven’t already. :))  
> (Guys, Jello is too kind. Please shower them in love when you get the chance to and subscribe to them wherever possible.)

Dream flicked his Eagle wings closed, landing soundlessly in the dark alleyway. He paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom, then walked forwards, head held high, each step confident and filled with purpose.

He rubbed the obsidian feather pendant hanging around his wrist nervously for a moment, then let his sleeve drop, covering it, glancing around to make sure no one had seen how his fingers had trembled ever so briefly. Anxiety was a sign of weakness, after all. 

_Only the strong survive._

“Dream?” The familiar voice rang out and Dream glanced to the side, eyes narrowed behind his wooden mask as another young man approached, black and white Osprey wings folded neatly behind his back.

“George.” He responded, the corners of his mouth twitching as he crushed the smile that tried to make its way up to his face as he saw his friend. 

_Don’t show emotion towards anyone. Dependency makes you weak, like a disease that will dissolve you from the inside out._

George nodded, acknowledging his name. “You’re done with your assignment?’

Dream gave a slight chuckle of amusement. “I wouldn’t be back if I wasn’t.” His fingers clenched subconsciously as he recalled the one time, long ago, when he had dared to do so. The punishment he received was deserved, and he wouldn’t ever forget that again. The Flock Leaders had made sure of that. 

_Obedience is of value. Value keeps you alive._

George shrugged, ignoring Dream’s tense shoulders. They all had painful memories, and usually, when they resurfaced, it was kinder to pretend not to notice. “True. Sapnap is due back any moment now too.” He said, voice carefully casual.

As if on cue, a third man dropped out of the sky, Hawk wings flaring at the last moment to keep him from crashing, and he landed nimbly. George huffed in amusement as Sapnap nearly whacked him in the face with the sharp tip of his wing. “Hey.”

Sapnap unsheathed two bloodied daggers and began cleaning them with a rag. “Hey. How did your assignments go?”

Dream laughed breezily, thankful for something else to think about. “He had no idea what hit him.”

Sapnap punched him gently on the shoulder. “That’s because they gave you an easy assignment – some nameless farmer.” He scowled, albeit without any actual heat. “I had to go for a nobleman! He had like twenty million guards!”

“Aww, poor Sapnap.” George teased, ducking as Sapnap spread his wings to whack him.

Dream glanced at George. “They didn’t give you one?”

“Nope.” George grinned, then pouted. “I was chaining the hybrids.”

Dream gave a sympathetic nod. Occasionally, the Flock Masters would assign one of them to assist in chaining captured hybrids – technically not hybrids, but according to the tales, non-bird wings or mythical feathers were a result of the hybridization of two species – to prepare them for customers who had purchased them. Usually, hybrids were killed, and their wings were taken for expensive decorations, but the ones on the harmless side would be captured and sold as pets. It was a gruelling, tiring task without the thrill of adventure that most assignments carried.

Dream flicked back his wings. “Did I ever tell you about that time they sent me after a hybrid?”

Sapnap raised an eyebrow. “I bet it was a really useless one. Like, what, a butterfly?” George laughed.

“No. It was a Phoenix.” Dream grinned, secretly delighted at the looks of shock on his friends’ faces.

Sapnap leaned forwards eagerly, while George narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe that.” The Osprey declared, wings tented over his back.

Dream smirked. “The wings are on display in The Nest.”

George hesitated. “The-”

Sapnap cut him off, eyes wide. “Those wings you brought back? The pair mounted above the Dragon Wings?”

Dream nodded, smirking. “If you don’t believe me, there’s a plaque with my name on it right there.”

George exhaled. “How long ago?” His voice was carefully expressionless. Asking assassins from the Circle of Vultures how long ago something was always tricky, as they usually avoided thinking about the past to hide from the memories. To hide how broken they had once been.

Dream paused, his posture rigid. “A few months before I met you guys. So... about five years ago?”

Sapnap nodded, noticing Dream’s discomfort. “How did you take on a Phoenix?” He questioned, eager to change the subject.

Dream’s shoulders relaxed. “I took it by surprise.” He gave a soft wheeze, which reminded them all of a tea kettle. “Snuck up on it from behind, and knocked it out, then took its wings. It didn’t stand a chance.”

George made a noise filled with awe. “That could have gone very wrong.”

Dream smirked. “It’s what we’re trained to do. I waited ten years for that opportunity.” 

_You should be thankful that they gave you the chance to Fledge. It’s an honour, a true mark of belonging._

Sapnap shrugged. “They gave you a hard assignment.” He commented, preening his wings carefully.

“It was my Fledging assignment.” Dream pointed out mildly. “Before I became a fully fledged member. It was supposed to be a challenge.”

George gave an exaggerated groan. “I still haven’t gotten that assignment yet.”

Dream gave him a sideways smile. “You’ll get it, eventually. When they think you’re ready, they’ll give it to you.” Until then, they just had to survive in a Circle that relied on respect to avoid knives in the back, despite not having gained any. 

Yet. 

Sapnap yawned. “Can’t wait for that.” He sighed. They all knew that fully fledged assassins were favoured by the Flock Leaders. They had extra rations in meals, and were generally more respected in the Circle, which was crucial – in a hierarchy without laws, respect is what kept you alive.

Dream flicked back his wings, fingers tracing the pendent hanging from his wrist. “Let’s go back. Bad will be waiting.”

* * *

Dream stepped into the shadows first, wings held stiffly behind him as he walked purposefully into the alley, leaving the sunlight behind in favour of the darkness of the hidden streets. Sapnap and George walked in as well.

There was a man standing at the entrance, leaning casually on the wall, holding a newspaper in front of his face, but Dream knew that the man was watching him, eyes searching his face and relaxing slightly as he recognized him. Passing him, Dream managed a slight, polite smile. “Hey, Tapl.”

Tapl returned it with a thin one, rolling up the newspaper, his eyes shining in the dark. One green, one orange.

His Kestrel wings twitched slightly as his gaze flicked over them. “Hey.” His voice was wary.

Everything about him told Dream that he was a seasoned assassin – the caution in his gaze, the tense way he always stood, the careful casualness of his stance, and the fact that his hands flicked over to his pocket at even the slightest shift in his surroundings. Tapl had never told him about his past, but Dream was certain that he had fledged, although he wasn’t sure why The Circle preferred to keep such a formidable weapon hidden away as a Talon – a guard that worked inside the organization- rather than send him on assignments.

He didn’t question it though, nor did he think about it often. Doubt and curiosity were frowned upon by the Flock Leaders, and he had learned, through the scars that laced his back and wings, to follow without question.

Tapl inclined his head, flicking his wings. “Bad’s waiting for you by the South side of The Nest.”

Dream nodded. Thank you.”

Tapl nodded in response, eyes already scanning the sky behind him, seemingly satisfied that Dream was following orders by being here.

He stepped into The Nest, Sapnap and George following closely behind him. Despite all being the same age, the fact that Dream was a Fledged assassin meant that he was a lot less likely to be attacked. Even within The Circle, there was no one who could be trusted. Power and greed trampled the thin veils of restraint some called respect, and most other assassins would not hesitate to beat someone for their gold – without killing them, of course. That was perhaps the one rule the Circle had between its members.

George shivered, folding his wings a little closer around his shoulders as faces peered at them from the shadows, curious eyes shining from the darkness. Merchants from the dark market reached out for their attention, but one cold, withering glare from Dream sent them scrambling back into the shadows, pressing against the crumbling brick walls.

They turned left, and almost instantly, someone barreled into Dream.

Faster than the eye could follow, Dream unsheathed his axe, the metal gleaming in the darkness as he lashed out, pinning the figure to the ground, his blade against their throat.

It was a hybrid. A young man with raven black hair, a mustache curled over his lip. A pair of shimmering insect wings buzzed on his back as he stared fearfully up at Dream. “Please-”

Dream stayed completely still, the mask concealing his expression. A heartbeat later, Talons came streaming through the alleyway, dressed in various shades of dark grey, tattered vulture wings brushing against the walls as they hurried by. One nodded at Dream, and he stepped away. They would handle it from here.

He guessed that the hybrid had escaped from its cage – a rare occurrence – but he didn’t dare ask. Instead, he paused for a moment, watching the Talons haul the Hybrid to his feet and dragging him down the alley, his posture now slumped with defeat, and glanced at Sapnap and George. They continued onwards without a word, and soon, he had brushed the incident out of his mind.

It wasn’t important, and it was really just better for everyone if he didn’t think about it.

Bad was waiting for them, rather impatiently, by the time they arrived. “You muffins are so slow!” He grumbled, but even the annoyance in his tone couldn’t hide the excitement that shone in his eyes and the flicking of his Raven wings.

“Ran into some trouble on the way.” Dream responded curtly, tilting his head. “Did they give you the newest assignment?”

Bad grinned. “Not quite. They told me we’re getting one, but they haven’t specified what.” Sapnap and George both leaned forwards curiously and Bad continued. “We’re supposed to go see the Flock Leaders right now.”

Dream shrugged, his smile hidden by his mask. “Let’s go!”

* * *

Dream stared forwards, carefully crafting a blank expression to put on his face. The Flock Leaders were far too perceptive to let a simple mask fool them. He would have to appear in his strongest, most capable form, which meant that he couldn’t show any form of weakness.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see Sapnap, George and Bad standing stiffly behind him – he was the only Fledged one of the group, which automatically made him their leader.

He exhaled, making sure his breathing was even, excitement thrumming in his chest. The Flock leaders didn’t ask to see them often – in fact, they preferred to rule from the shadows – but when they did appear for an assignment, it was likely for a Fledging.

The man in front of him stared forwards coldly, his long black robes melting into the shadows. His wings, massive tattered Vulture wings that were spread slightly, made him seem much bigger and more imposing than he would have been otherwise. Gold rings glinted on his feathers, glinting coldly like stars.

Dream folded himself into a smooth bow, his eyes fixed on this ground at his feet. He could hear the slight rustling of feathers behind him as the rest of his Flock did the same.

“Rise.” The Flock Leader commanded.

Dream straightened, staying completely silent. There was a slight pause, and he waited as the Vulture studied him carefully.

“You know of… recent events?”

Dream hesitated for a heartbeat. “If you mean the loss of a member-”

The Vulture nodded, eyes glittering with malice. “Your job is to find him. Bring his wings back.”

Dream tilted his head. “Is he a...”

A nod. The Vulture extended his hand, handing him a feather.

A Phoenix feather.

It had a soft colour, glowing faintly in the shadows, dappled in coppery reds and vibrant oranges, streaked with the fierce golden light of the sun. It felt warm in his hands, and he traced a finger down the shaft. 

Their target was a Phoenix. A young adult male, by the look of the feather. “I understand.” He said, and the Flock Leader gave a tiny nod.

“As you should.” He inclined his wings towards the rest of Dream’s flock. “And perhaps this will be the opportunity to grow some wings and really fly, should you do well.” There was the faintest ghost of a smile on the Vulture’s face and he nodded at Dream. “Do not fail.”

_To fail would mean a fate worse than death. No, returning empty handed was not an option - they would either succeed, or die trying._

Dream sunk into a bow again, heart thrumming in his chest. This was it: the chance for the rest of his friends to Fledge. If they were successful, which he had no doubt they would be, their lives would be changed forever.

And it was true.

But never in the way he would have thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, I’m not continuing the food thing after this Fic, but I will do it for the rest of this one.
> 
> _  
> Yeets 2 cups of flour, 1 cup of cheddar cheese, 1 stick of unsalted butter, buttermilk, and regular milk at y’all.  
> _
> 
> _  
> Tosses chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream in your general direction, but it hits the cheddar cheese instead, and now we have cheddar cheese flavoured chocolate vanilla cake ice cream.  
> _
> 
> SandDune wanted a carrot. Who am I to argue?
> 
> _  
> Chucks carrot at SandDune.  
> _
> 
> _  
> Throws a giant bag of Sultanas at everyone, covering everything in grapes.  
> _  
>  Welp.
> 
> Also, someone wants “comchy kneecaps”. Would anyone be willing to donate their kneecaps?
> 
> That’s all, until next time!
> 
> PS: This is Jello. Hi Blue, I stole some agar-agar from you, I hope you don’t mind. Oh, and some soybean powder, as well as a few dried cherry blossoms… and a bit of brown sugar syrup, but I’m sure you don’t mind. O.o I promise to share the raindrop cake with you-


	5. Warmth Isn't Always Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anything else?” Phil sat down by the window, absentmindedly offering Skeppy a plate of biscuits. The Blue Jay took one but picked at it distractedly, never bringing it up to his mouth.
> 
> “I’ve been tasked with looking for the headquarters of the Circle of Vultures.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe imagine actually regularly updating fics - could not be me.
> 
> **(Cough-** **_hack- cough-_ ** **)**
> 
> Jello are you alright
> 
> **(no I’m asphyxiating help guys it’s 12:30am and I’m running on adrenaline and wheezing too hard at comedy for Lunar New Year also happy year of the Ox y’all)**
> 
> Jello you can spell that word first try but not biscuit I am judging rn /j
> 
> **(I- in my defense-I have none.)** (ooooo just like my braincells)
> 
> Don’t die on me
> 
> I need u
> 
> **(Ah yes.** **_Dramatic gasp_ ** **only for use. I have been betrayed.)**
> 
> (no not like that ;-;)
> 
> Jello i’m too lazy to write start notes what if this was the start notes
> 
> Actually that would be a terrible idea, imma write start notes.
> 
> **(Noooooo keep ittttttttttttt)** [I-]
> 
> **_closes door, pushing Jello to go sleep_ ** **-** anyway- hello- don’t mind them-
> 
> Alright these are the start notes now. I’m sorry to people who had to suffer through these XD
> 
> Enjoy

Phil ran a thumb down the shaft of his flight feathers, the dappled brown colouration almost shining gold in the candlelight. Rain fell in sheets from the skies, lashing down from the heavens and hammering against the closed windows.

Sighing, he craned his neck, peering into the gloom. He hoped Skeppy was alright.

Skeppy was a detective, and he might have information that could help them find Techno. But he was also an old family friend, and it would be… nice... to have him around. 

Besides, the grand halls had been so ghostly quiet for the past few days - he was looking forward to a bit of noise. Anything to take his mind off the worry of losing a brother.

_ Knock. Knock. _

The guard near the door began to turn, wings flaring slightly, but Phil leapt out of his seat, vaulting over the table and snapping his wings open midair, landing neatly in front of the door. The guard simply gave him a tiny nod and stepped back, letting take the handle. He twisted it, pulling it back.

It was Skeppy.    
  
  


He was drenched, rain streaming down his brilliant blue feathers and dripping from his long overcoat, but there was a familiar, radiant smile on his face. “Your Majesty.”

Phil gave a hoarse laugh, his voice rough around the edges after several days of silence. “Skeppy! Come in.” He flattened himself against the door, shivering slightly as a cold wind followed Skeppy into the room.

He let go of the door, letting it shut with an echoing crash that resonated far too loudly through the empty halls, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. He waited for Skeppy to take off his coat and catch his breath (leaving behind shining trails of rainwater on the carpets in the process, but Phil didn’t quite care about those either).

“Any leads on Techno?”

Skeppy exhaled, features suddenly so much older, however young he was. “I’m sorry, Phil.”

“Nothing at all?” The hope that had warmed his chest a moment ago was fading - when had the room become so cold?

“He could still be alive.” Skeppy pointed out, a forced positivity straining his voice.

The guard by the door cleared his throat again and pointed at Skeppy’s wings, which were leaving behind a trail of rainwater on the gilded velvet carpets, but Phil waved his hand at the guard, dismissing him. The guard gave the King a cold smile, golden tooth flashing briefly, then turned and vanished into hazy aureous light of the open halls.

“Anything else?” Phil sat down by the window, absentmindedly offering Skeppy a plate of biscuits. The Blue Jay took one but picked at it distractedly, never bringing it up to his mouth.

“I’ve been tasked with looking for the headquarters of the Circle of Vultures.”

Phil froze, his head suddenly pulsing with discomfort, as though something in Skeppy’s words had awakened a warning.

He paused and tried to reply, but suddenly couldn’t. Pain- brilliant, scalding, hot pain shot through his mind and he staggered back, the plate falling from his fingers and smashing on the ground into a million shards of white and blue, his hands flying up to his head.

_ An assassin in a green cloak, wearing a white wooden mask adorned with a crude smile. He twisted neatly through the air, landing in front of Phil, and suddenly there were three more figures behind him, looming ominously in the dark, blades glinting. _

_ Stars twinkled behind them, glimmering, though the lights were anything but warm. _

_ They were deadly still for a moment, before the masked man suddenly lunged forwards, his axe gripped tightly in his hands. It shimmered in a beautiful arc of blue, and Phil tried to back away or make a sound, but found himself frozen, rooted to the spot. _

_ A pendant gleamed in the moonlight, dangling from the assassin’s wrist. A polished black feather. _

_ Pain. He looked down to see the head of the axe buried in his chest, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. _

_ Red flooded his vision, drowning him. He could taste the suffocating stench of iron in his mouth, clogging up his throat and lungs. _

_ Darkness. _

“PHIL!” 

His eyes flew open and he gasped, sides heaving as he struggled for breath. “Phil.” Skeppy repeated, eyes wide. “Phil, look at me. Phil? Can you hear me?”

He swallowed the taste of blood, blinking frantically. He was alive, very much alive.

He shook his head, clearing it of other thoughts as he attempted to process what just happened.

That was a vision.

_ A vision of his own death. _

“Phil?”

“I’m fine.” He rasped out, trying to take deep breaths. “I’m fine. Skeppy - how close are you to finding the location of the headquarters?”

Skeppy flicked his wings nervously, his blue eyes flashing with barely concealed worry in the firelight. He chose to ignore Phil’s question, instead electing to ask his own. “Phil, that was a vision, wasn’t it.”

Though it was phrased as a question, the tone was flat.

Phil exhaled, wrapping his wings around himself. “Yeah.”

Because Skeppy knew. Not a lot of people did, but Phil trusted the Blue Jay far more than he would like to admit. Outside the family, Skeppy was the only one who knew about the Phoenix bloodline the brothers shared, and how Techno was a full Phoenix while Phil had a fraction of those powers.

Powers, which included visions.

Phil rubbed his head. The pain had vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, and now all he could feel was dread pooling into a pit in his stomach. 

He stood abruptly, waving a hand towards the hall that led towards the empty guest rooms. “I’ll be back soon. Make yourself at home while I’m gone.”

Skeppy tilted his head. “You can trust me, Phil.”

“It- it’s not about you.” He paused, wondering how much he should say.

Skeppy must have seen the distressed look on his face, because he fell silent, instead staring dully at the shattered pieces of porcelain on the carpet.

Phil faced the door, back to the Blue Jay for a heartbeat, and then he could hear Skeppy let out a reluctant sigh. “You’re really stubborn sometimes, you know that?” It was a thoughtless remark; just a teasing jab that wasn’t meant to have been taken to heart.

Phil shouldn’t have been angry. He knew that there was no reason to- that Skeppy was just being a friend. But a fierce, bitter fire blazed to life somewhere inside him and he felt the rage sweep through him, warming his trembling wings. 

“You would be too if you were forced onto the throne for your family, only to watch it fall apart anyways.” He snapped back before he could stop himself, his voice raising and nearly culminating to a shout at the end of the sentence. Why was he so furious? Skeppy didn’t deserve that anger- and yet it  _ roared _ inside him, waiting to be let free, with sharp, painful words resting on the tip of his tongue.

Skeppy made a slight sound of bewilderment and shuffled back. Phil couldn’t find it in himself to apologize, even when the other turned around and ran off.

He waited until the light sounds of Skeppy’s steps faded into the depths of the palace before bringing his hands up and rubbing his eyes, sitting down heavily on one of the chairs. He wasn’t going anywhere- he just didn’t want Skeppy to see him like this.

He was so tired.

Tired of it all.

The Kingdom. The crown. The stupid circle and their stupid assassins.

And Techno. Not that he was tired  _ of _ Techno, but the stress of losing a brother was  _ exhausting. _

True, sometimes they didn’t get along. Not many people did, with Techno’s dry humour and sarcastic quips that  _ never _ seemed to end. But they were brothers, and try as he might, Phil could not forget that.

He could not forget the gentle trust in those wary grey eyes and the vulnerable fear when Techno had tugged on his sleeve nervously to turn around and show him wings - brilliant, gold-flecked wings, each feather shining like polished bronze. They had both been mere children, Phil only three years older.

Phil had handed him a cloak and hidden those beautiful wings from the prying eyes and cruel claws that threatened to snatch them away.

When Wilbur turned out to be a Barn owl a year later, Phil was beyond relieved.When Tommy fledged into a Tawny owl three years after that, he had thought that the worst of his fears would be over. 

Techno was the only visible Phoenix. Techno was smart, wary and capable.

They would be fine.

But he must have done something wrong - of course he had. Who was he lying to? He was only a child barely older than the rest of his brothers yet expected to raise them - because this wasn’t supposed to have happened.

He is not their father.

They are not fine.

He sighed, trying to calm the pounding in his head. When that vision had sparked in his mind, he had felt the fire within him glow. The part of him that was a Phoenix. It gave him so much- the bonfire that gave him flames, that blessed (or cursed?) him with visions, that screamed at Phil to  _ help him, find him, kill his enemies, defend the flock, tug on the bond, protect him, protect them- _

He sat up with a slight gasp.

Phoenix bonds. Of course - how could he have forgotten?

They were connections that all Phoenixes shared. Some sort of internal thread of flame and warmth that tied them all to each other, and if they were strong enough, they could be used to communicate with each other. Hope rose dangerously in his chest as he kept running down the train of thought.

If Techno was close enough, or was broadcasting his power, searching for more Phoenixes nearby, Phil might be able to reach him - even with his very limited ability.

He nearly leapt up in excitement before taking a deep breath, calming himself down. If this was going to work, he cannot afford to be distracted.

Eyes closed, he focused on scouring the nearby areas, warmth pulsing in his chest as though a fire had been ignited inside him.

But he felt nothing. 

Not even a hint of the life he used to feel when Techno was still here. Either Techno was far away, or he was dead.

The hope that had risen so beautifully high  _ plummeted _ down to the ground, wings clipped, falling back into the ever-growing pit of despair.

He exhaled, staring outside at the rain that continues to fall and the firelight that shimmered in the window and he  _ wondered. _

Why is everything still the same?

_ Nothing has the right to be the same. _

Nothing was the same, and yet, everything still was. The rain continued to hit the window panes, and the tiny flame on the candle continued to flicker.

_ Plunk. Plunk. _

Phil stared at the rain, and he didn’t move. Not for the rest of the night- not when his brother was almost certainly _ dead. _

He put his head in his hands.

And on the other side of the castle, unbeknownst to the worried King, a certain guard slipped out into the rain. Dark wings carried him into the shadowed alleyways down below, and he paused for a heartbeat, allowing a thin smile.

A golden tooth shone in light of the streetlamp before he vanished into the stygian night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys first I must tell you something of very high importance: Jello is incredible.
> 
> (Jello here: no :). Sub to Blue, follow her, whatever- if you haven’t done it, do it now. :))
> 
> Alright, now onto the food requests. Yes, I am judging you all for the things you have ordered.
> 
> Okay first we got asparagus, cheese, pasta and cucumber.  _ Yeets the said food towards y’all, watching them arc through the sky and s p l a t onto the ground. _
> 
> (For the record, I’m judging, Cheese and asparagus-seriously? *cough*- anyway- back to Blue-)
> 
> Also someone wanted hot chocolate, some homemade biscuits, and blackberry jam.  _ Chucks the hot chocolate and blackberry jam at you.  _ Sock can provide the biscuits though - they made some last chapter. 
> 
> (We took too long on spelling that ngl- biscuit- TwT)
> 
> That’s all for now, until next time!
> 
> (I stole hot chocolate this time .-. I’ve run out- but then again drinking it every morning for the past month can do that to one’s stash)
> 
> ~ BlueQuills


	6. Irreplaceable Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They hid - those cowardly snake hearted vile creatures - lurking in the shadows, hiding, unseen, blades sharpened and ready for blood.
> 
> Well, two could play that game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe another chapter, pog. 
> 
> I am waiting for Jello to somehow turn this into a comedy, because somehow their very presence makes the notes 10 times funnier.
> 
> ***crashes down the door* HELLO, AND WELCOME TO ANOTHER EPISODE OF JELLO IS BETA-ING AND WRITING AND COMPOSING AT UNGODLY HOURS. HOW ARE YOU ALL? I HOPE YOU’RE DOING WELL :D**
> 
> **ANYWAY TODAY I BRING YOU: BLUE HAS SOMEHOW MISSPELT ‘WIELD” AFTER PARAGRAPHS AND PARAGRAPHS OF TEXT THAT I SAW NO NEED TO BETA. :D**
> 
> ;-; i cri look have you seen my nick on maya’s server- [for those of you not on the server, it’s “Goddess of Bad Spelling”]
> 
> **Indeed I have lol but like- I was on a roll, reading through, going like ‘damn this is good’ and all of a sudden you smack me in the face (metaphorically) with “weild”**
> 
> I have no defense, I just can’t type-
> 
> I either type super slow or I speed up and make a ton of errors. 
> 
> **She says as she somehow managed to type “jusy” instead of “just”**  
>  SHHHHHHH YOU SAW NOTHING
> 
> **aNYWAY- I’ve delayed y’all long enough; enjoy the chapter. It’s great. :)**
> 
> Enjoy.

Techno hummed lightly, trying to keep his face straight as pain shot up his shoulder. The knife used by the assassin must have been dirty, because the wound still hadn’t started to heal and judging from how painful it was, he guessed that it was starting to get infected. 

Well, great. Just great.

Medical supplies were expensive and hard to come by. While there wouldn’t have been an issue if he was still seen as royalty, he had almost no way of getting any now in his current state.

He paused, exhaling and watching his breath condense into a frosty cloud in the frigid air before him, shimmering into a fine nothingness. He had been travelling for three days now, and the little coin bag in his pocket was significantly lighter. Techno had tried to avoid spending wherever possible - sleeping in hidden alleyways, picking wild berries for sustenance wherever possible and spending on food only when the sharp pangs of hunger made it impossible to sleep.

Perhaps he was soft - he had been raised in warm, well lit halls with access to the sweet white bread and buttery sugar cookies that only royals could dream of, but he liked to think that he could take a bit of bitterness too. 

He wondered if this was how his tale was meant to end. Starving to death on a cold street, weakened by his wound.

No. He refused.

He would find something to do. Something that would leave his mark on the world.

To sit around, waiting to starve to death - that was giving up. And he would not give up.

Resentment for the Circle of Vultures stirred inside him, a brief wave of anger warming him. 

_ How dare they. _

He could have been at home now. 

Listening to Wilbur singing and strumming his guitar.

Watching in amusement at some absurdly stupid thing Tommy undoubtably would have done.

Keeping up mindless banter with Phil, his sharp tongue delivering witty remarks and watching Phil laugh until he ran out of breath.

But no, instead he was trudging through the icy streets of a town that wasn’t his own, hurt, hungry and chilled to the bone, his wings sore from being folded so tightly across his back under his cloak for so long.

It was their fault. Perhaps not the assassin himself - Techno had no doubt that he had been raised and brainwashed by the Circle, but there was a leader behind all the schemes and blood.  _ They _ would take the blame for everything. 

They controlled the entire circle like puppets, setting everything up in a deadly game of chess, a plotting mind playing with each of its assassins like brainless pawns.

They hid - those cowardly snake hearted  _ vile _ creatures - lurking in the shadows, hiding, unseen, blades sharpened and ready for blood.

Well, two could play that game.

He was confident that if he tried, he could beat them at their own game. After all, he  _ had _ managed to take down one of their high ranking assassins just a few days ago.

It would certainly be better than roaming through the muddied streets - he had a goal now. Something to aim for.

And he would not fail.

~

Footsteps. 

Quick and light, soft as dew on morning grass.

He could tell that they were the footsteps of a trained person- specifically, someone who hunted.

And judging from the way he could hear them approach from the side, tailing him at a safe distance, he felt like prey.

He ignored it, electing to continue through the streets, long, brisk steps carrying him through the cobbled roads that shone with rainwater, glimmering coldly.

And then everything happened at once.

Someone dropped down from the sky behind him, and he whirled around, a hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword in an instant, dropping into a defensive stance and ignoring the bolt of pain in his wounded shoulder.

More footsteps in front of him, and to his side. He was surrounded. 

That wouldn’t have been a big issue - he had dealt with plenty of street gangs before, and he had no qualms with fighting his way through a crowd. But something about the precision of each movements and the slight clinking of blades he could pick up told him that these were trained assassins. 

Well, fine.

Earlier than he had expected, but how bad could it be? The last assassin had barely been any trouble - true, he had landed a good hit on Techno’s shoulder, but he was one of the top ranking assassins that Skeppy and his team had been trying to track down for years.

These were likely sent to test him, gauge his skill level. They were going to be surprised. He turned slowly, eyes narrowed.

A smiling mask stared back at him.

The assassin was crouched, an axe slung casually over his shoulder, eagle wings flaring slowly.

“Found you, Phoenix.” His voice was a bit too gleeful for Techno’s liking.

Techno froze. Well that decided it - if they knew he was a Phoenix, they would have to die. Simple. He could count four of them total - the masked one, one with a sword, one with a pair of twin daggers and the last wearing an uncomfortable looking hood that shadowed his face, a knife in hand.

He unsheathed his sword, and instantly heard the steps behind him, flinging himself to the side. A sword split the air where he had been a moment prior and he whirled around to face his attacker - an Osprey, his shirt a faded blue.

“Back off.” Techno snarled, memories of Phil insisting he find ways to avoid violence if possible flooding his mind.

“Oh, is the little Phoenix scared?” The masked assassin tilted his head, wings spreading menacingly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

Techno had the distinct impression that he was smiling beneath the mask, and hated it. He raised his sword, cursing underneath his breath as his shoulder screamed in protest and glared back wordlessly. The hooded assassin to his left gave a thin smile, raven wings shifting.

“Come on, little muffin. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Techno lunged forwards, lashing out with his sword in a glimmering arc, an ear-splitting screech sounding through the air as the assassin deflected the blow with his knife, the metal blades scraping against each other.

The masked man leapt nimbly to the aid of his ally, and Techno took a step back, deflecting their blows with deadly accuracy, slight worry churning inside him. These assassins seemed rather skilled - he definitely still had a good chance though.

Techno lashed out, ducking underneath the masked assassin’s blow and thrusting his blade towards the raven, cutting into his side. The assassin backed away with a hiss of pain, and Techno left to the side to avoid a strike from the one with the daggers. 

“Bad!” The eagle snapped, and for a moment, Techno thought, a little confused, that the assassin was scolding him, but then the masked man turned towards his wounded friend. “Bad, are you alright?”

The raven nodded, backing away. “Don’t worry about me.” His hand was pressed against the wound, and Techno could see crimson dripping between his fingers.

_ Good. _

He spun neatly, ducking beneath the swing of the assassin with the sword (which the simple sight of spurred a wave of anger inside him - Phil had always said that swords were weapons meant only for noble causes to wield) and flicked his blade towards the masked man, wincing as pain jolted through his shoulder.

The assassin suddenly whirled, meeting his strike with his axe, and Techno gritted his teeth, his wounded shoulder making it hard to concentrate.

The hooded man gave a slight bark of laughter and twisted the hilt of his axe, locking their weapons.

Techno cursed furiously - that was _ not  _ good.

In one on one combat, that wouldn’t have been such a problem. But now, he couldn’t afford to have his sword occupied with only one of the assassins, and judging from the gleam of satisfaction in their eyes, he could tell that they knew too.

Techno tried to twist his weapon free, but froze as his shoulder  _ burned - why did it hurt so bad -  _ and his senses dimmed into a muddied haze of pain, barely aware of the footsteps behind him until something hard hit the back of his head and the world spun.

_ Pain, bright and fierce as fire, but cold and aching and unmoving. _

His eyes were closed and he felt as though he was underwater, senses odd and muffled, but he could hear them talking.

“He hasn’t learned to use his fire? Are we sure he’s even the Phoenix we’re after?”

“Apparently not, and yes.”

“That was so much easier than I thought.”

“I know. He’s hurt though, from before.”

“Stop talking, you idiots, he’s still awake.”

And then another bright flash of pain.

Nothingness.

From the shadows of the alley, a figure watched, fury gleaming in his brown eyes. They dared hurt another Phoenix-

Perhaps this would be his chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I’ll put the food list in later, gotta go do homework first -_-)
> 
> _  
> **Quietly snags another packet of hot chocolate**  
>  _
> 
> *closes a million tabs for volunteer stuff that I am dying with*
> 
> Okay so.
> 
> You guys wanted bacon and Brussel sprouts. Yes, I am once again immensely judgmental. 
> 
> _Chucks requested items at you._
> 
> Someone wanted a “kilogram of sultanas this time in the bag”, so…
> 
> _Buries the story with bagged sultanas._
> 
> Die.
> 
> **(Christ Blue-)**
> 
> (Jello’s thing in the Google Docs is a Gopher and I am snickering) 
> 
> **(PRESERVE MY DIGNITY GODDAMMIT)**
> 
> **B r u h.**
> 
> Heh.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Ah yes asparagus. Why you guys must request all the weird foods I do not know, but fine.
> 
> _Yeets asparagus at y’all._
> 
> Time to vanish for another week-
> 
> Bye!
> 
> ~ BlueQuills  
> NO YOU SAW NOTHING LOOK D AND S ARE SO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER 
> 
> **(Jello again- Blue managed to misspell her alias and called herself BlueQuilld)**
> 
> shhhhhhh.


	7. Take my freedom (I’ll steal it back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A red hot handprint glowed on the metal blade. Sapnap made a slight squeaking sound as he caught sight of it.
> 
> Dream jerked his weapon back, his posture shifting. “You!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are a lemure today
> 
> Greetings ty for the title btw i shall be stealing that.
> 
> **Big pog**
> 
> **Greetings readers of BlueQuills today I bring I’ve literally just been procrastinating my next chapter of my multi-chap fic and I’m dying kekw kekw kekw**
> 
> In other words, Jello is doing what I normally do.
> 
> **Kek**
> 
> Hey look I wrote one sentence without making any spelling errors!
> 
> **EROS**
> 
> **EROES**
> 
> **KEKWWWWW**
> 
> :< shhhhh you saw _nothing_.
> 
> **_*hysterical laughter*_** **I’M ASPHYXIATING AGAIN**
> 
> Please don’t die on me I don’t think I passed my first aid lessons, they were online and it’s hard to learn stuff online-
> 
> **“IT’S HEARD” YOU’RE NOT HELPING**
> 
> **OH MAN**
> 
> **YEAH NO I’M OUT-**
> 
> **_*CACKLES*_ **
> 
> **ENJOY THE FIC GUYS-**
> 
> Nooooo come backkkkk
> 
> _Chases after Jello_
> 
> Enjoy.

Dream sighed, exasperated. “Can you not sit still for a _ single goddamn minute _ ??”

He too was eager to start heading back – once the Phoenix was awake, that is – but Sapnap had not stopped fidgeting with his daggers for any moment and it was driving the rest of them mad. Simply dragging the unconscious Phoenix to their little hideout had been quite the workout, and they were not about to do it again, so now they were waiting for him to wake up.

Sapnap rolled his eyes, continuing to spin a dagger in each hand. “I’m bored.”

George glanced over from where he was helping Bad bandage his wound. It wasn’t deep, thankfully, and probably wouldn’t scar.

“Fine, then let’s discuss what we’re going to do with  _ him. _ ” George pointed at the Phoenix.

They had put him on a makeshift bed and treated his wounds – half dead prey wasn’t anything extraordinary, and Dream didn’t want the Phoenix collapsing on them sometime during the flight back to the headquarters. They had removed his cloak too, and Dream was shocked at how dull and fireless his feathers had seemed in comparison to the last Phoenix he had met.

Dream tilted his head. “What about him?”

“He’s royalty.” George narrowed his eyes. “I recognize his face from the missing posters.”

Dream shrugged slowly. “That doesn’t change anything. Orders are orders.”

He paused, and his mind flicked back to when he had still been disobedient and had dared question one of the orders they had given him.

__

_ Why do I need to move it back? I just moved it over- _

__

The lashings he had received for that were well deserved. No, the reason behind the orders didn’t matter – the mind behind the schemes knew what they were doing.

All he had to do was follow.

It was simple, really.

Sapnap made a sound of agreement next to him.

The Phoenix stirred, and suddenly Dream was on high alert again, hands tense, ready to snap down to his axe and draw it.

Sapnap raised an eyebrow, finally falling still. “You awake?” He jerked his chin towards the Phoenix.

The Phoenix paused and blinked, sitting up. His wary grey eyes scanned the room. “Who are you-“ He croaked, voice hoarse from not talking.

Dream chuckled. “As if we would tell you that.”

The Phoenix glared at him, raising his hands to rub at his eyes blearily. “Worth a try.” He muttered. “What do you want from me? Why am I not already dead?”

Dream paused for a moment before answering – the rest of his flock waited. After all, the leader was meant to be the one handling conversation.

“ _ We _ don’t want anything from you. The Circle wants something from you, and although they haven’t specified, I’m sure you have a pretty good idea of what.”

The Phoenix sighed, twisting to glance at his exposed wings and ruffling them slightly. “Yeah.” He grumbled. “So, what, I guess you kill me now? Do I get a dramatic speech before I die?”

Bad gave a tiny huff of amusement, falling silent under a glare from George.

The Phoenix paused suddenly, a faraway look glittering in his gaze, and Dream made a slight sound of concern. “What is he doing-”

And then the door exploded.

Bad, being the closest to it,  _ screamed _ , leaping up from his seat. George stumbled after him, eyes wide.

“FIRE!” Bad shrieked. “THERE’S FIRE!”

And indeed there was fire, hot and bright, writhing outside the exit, flames licking the door frame. An impassable inferno, roaring with heat.

Dream drew his axe, narrowing his eyes at the smoke that poured into the room. “Show yourself!”

None of them noticed that the Phoenix had gotten up and was scanning the room for his sword, finding it propped up against the wall.

None of them noticed him edge towards it, eyes glittering, not at all concerned by the fire.

No, instead, they were far too preoccupied with the figure that was emerging from the flames.

Dream swung his axe towards them, pointing it towards the person’s throat.

A young man, with a simple red sweater. He glared at them, standing half in the blazing rubble of what was once the door, and raised his hand, fingers glowing, and pushed Dream’s axe away. 

A red hot handprint glowed on the metal blade. Sapnap made a slight squeaking sound as he caught sight of it.

Dream jerked his weapon back, his posture shifting. “You!”

“Yes, me,” The man in the flames agreed, his voice cold. “Out of everyone here, I would think you might know me the best.” 

He took a step forward, the fire flickering around him. Dream took a step back.

And then a blade touched his neck, icy cold in the suffocating heat. He drew in a breath, freezing in place.

The Phoenix spoke from behind him.

“Forgot about me? Shame. First lesson you should always learn: never let your enemies out of your sight.”

Dream didn’t respond, his fingers tightening around his axe.

_ He was going to die, he had failed. _

He closed his eyes behind the mask and tried to keep his breathing steady.

_ Perhaps that was better than what would happen instead though, if the circle found out about- _

He prayed that the rest of his flock would finish the mission.

And then he heard a sharp shout and the sword vanished. His eyes flew open to utter chaos, and he yelped, flinging himself back to avoid being crushed by a falling piece of lumber, flames scorching the wood.

Embers danced wildly in the air and he coughed, eyes watering, trying to make sense of the situation. The smoke was too thick to see through properly, and he stumbled over the ruins of their safe-house, wings tented to help him keep his balance.

The Phoenixes - both of them - were gone. 

George was kneeling beside Sapnap, who was muttering profanities under his breath, hand clasped tightly on his arm, and Bad was glancing around wildly. “Dream? Dre- There you are!”

Dream skirted around a pile of blazing debris. “We need to get out of here-”

A crash sounded behind him and boiling air rushed against his wings. Flaring them, he stumbled onto the cobbled streets of the alleyway, turning around to watch the flames that rose into the sky, dark smoke smudging the brilliant blue.

“What happened? Is Sapnap alright?” He swiveled around, relieved to see that everyone had gotten out.

Bad was staring at the fire as it ate through the wood, devouring their safe-house, one hand on Sapnap’s shoulder, making sure the Hawk was all right. George was alert and wary, perched on a nearby roof, sword in hand, keeping watch.

The Hawk gritted his teeth. “Tried to stop the Phoenix. He had his sword back. Did  _ not  _ go well.”

Dream made a sound of sympathy. “Can you still fight?”

Sapnap narrowed his eyes. “Probably not. A few days maybe?”

Dream nodded. “Alright. We’ll need a new plan.”

Bad tore his gaze away from the fire. “Dream-”

Dream swallowed. “I’ll explain.”

A pause. George tilted his head to show that he was listening as well.

“Remember that Phoenix I told you that I was sent after for my fledging assignment? Turns out, wingless doesn’t mean death.”

It took a moment for it to sink in, and Bad’s eyes widened. “That- he-that’s  _ him _ ?”

Dream nodded, stamping down the wave of panic that rose inside him. “I can’t let the Flock leaders know-”

George nodded grimly. “Don’t worry, we won’t let them.” He adjusted his grip on his weapon.

“We’ll just go after two targets, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mentally prepared myself to be laughed at by Jello again, lets gooo
> 
> Okay so first person asked for “Golden Grahams cereal, marshmallows, butterscotch chips, and chocolate chips(plz more than 50)”. Thus, through my unmatched generosity, I shall present to you: 
> 
> _Yeets one marshmallow, one grain of cereal, one butterscotch chip and 51 chocolate chips at you._
> 
> **(Isn’t this basically s'mores- but also, moving on-)**
> 
> _Reads list._
> 
> _Chucks fried crickets and broccoli at readers._
> 
> Look idk how those two are going to taste together, tell me if it’s good-
> 
> **(It’s pretty good ngl)**
> 
> _Splashes ice water on everyone’s faces._
> 
> Die. Death for everyone.
> 
> **(Blue woke up and chose death and violence and drowning)**
> 
> To be fair, I haven’t drowned anyone yet. 
> 
> _(Yet.)_
> 
> **(I fear for you readers. Run, run, run away, this is your last chance, escape-)**
> 
> I will find you. 
> 
> **(Blue- please-)**
> 
> Also Ari wanted orange juice and soy sauce. Instructions unclear, you know get a glass of orange juice mixed with soy sauce. 
> 
> And you also want pickles and chocolate syrup-
> 
> I am judging you right now. A lot. 
> 
> _Cautiously provides pickles and chocolate syrup, then runs away, terrified for my life._
> 
> That’s all, I think.
> 
> **(Casually runs away with more hot chocolate)**
> 
> Where did you even get hot chocolate from-
> 
> **(You’d be surprised. :))**
> 
> *slight concern*
> 
> **(Sips chocolate and whipped cream with a smile)**
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, and until next time,
> 
> ~ BlueQuills

**Author's Note:**

> Again, massive thank you to Jello for beta-reading for me, and on that note, I shall shamelessly plug the both of us:
> 
> [Jello's Youtube (POG songs)](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQHHEpmzIrOYyxX659-3tfA)  
> [Jello's AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jello12451)  
> [Jello's Discord Server](https://discord.gg/HwbkW8jqrf)
> 
> [My Youtube (Speedpaints)](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCOAH-FO3OqAsCwF6oMre7GQ)  
> [My Discord](https://discord.gg/kUtQJNqNHs)


End file.
